


Sugar

by barghest



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: (24 or 25), (hanzo is about 24 and mccree is older than his canon age), Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Hanzo Shimada, Hanzo-centric, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Multiple Orgasms, Multiple Sex Positions, Not Suitable/Safe For Work, Oral Sex, Playboy Bunny Outfit, Pre-Canon, Riverboat McCree, Top Jesse McCree, Trans Character, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Young Hanzo Shimada, genji is a fuckboy brother, mustache riding.........., questionable reading material
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-05-26
Packaged: 2018-11-05 04:34:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11006094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barghest/pseuds/barghest
Summary: a few choice women and men. an entire love hotel to himself for the evening. as much champagne as he could possibly consume. his brother has arranged a whole night of fun for hanzo to get him out of the house - but when hanzo stumbles into the wrong room, an encounter with a dashing stranger might just set hanzo's evening alight.(a commission!)





	Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> commissioned by a good friend, and put up here with their permission!  
> (if you're under eighteen, look away now.)

“Come on, it’ll be fun!” _ It will be fun _ is always Genji’s reason behind something, and, as time goes on, Hanzo finds himself less and less turned on by Genji’s idea of ‘fun’. For every wild night on the town that Genji calls entertainment, Hanzo has a novel. A piece of historically significant literature. A blog of gay niche erotica, open in five different tabs in an incognito window on his personal computer.

Genji files his nails, flicking the dust over Hanzo’s bedsheets. He sits cross legged at Hanzo’s feet, like an oversized, spangled gremlin, a croptop showing off his newest piercing, “it’ll just be _ you _ , in a  _ room _ , with a few--”

“That’s enough,” Hanzo snaps, flicking the covers up and over his brother’s head, giving up all pretenses of trying to get an early night’s sleep. “You know I’m not into the same things as you, brother.”

“But that’s the best bit,” Genji spreads his hands, the blanket only slightly muffling his voice, “it will be only you, getting  _ all _ the attention.” A tuft of brilliant green hair escapes the blanket as it slips forward. “Promise I won’t be hanging on your arm, brother.”

Hanzo looks him over, as the blanket slides off and pools in Genji’s lap.

“C’mon, brother, you will unwind,” Genji speaks with all the charisma of a travel agent upselling a package holiday. “You’ll have fun, I promise.”

For a moment, they lock eyes, and Genji raises his eyebrows, one disappearing beneath an unruly lock of hair.

“You have booked this already, haven’t you,” Hanzo sighs. Genji gives him a winning smile.

\---

He could still have crawled out of it, he’s sure - but it is too late to contemplate this in one of the family cars, cheek leaning against the cold window as they rumble towards Hanamura’s entertainment precinct. Hanzo huffs quietly, fiddling with his hair tie and avoiding looking at the gilt envelope on the seat beside him. Genji had gone all out to treat him, pushing the envelope into his hands with reverence and solemnly promising him detailed instructions of his evening inside. 

Hanzo had skimmed it. A few choice women and men. An entire love hotel to himself for the evening. As much champagne as he could possibly consume. If he could turn the car round, he would, but sadly the poor driver was under strict instructions to deliver him to his destination.

It was not a long journey either, and in less time than he would have liked, he is ushered inside the outwardly unassuming building and up to a plushly furnished reception. The room is dominated by shades of red and maroon, gold inlay on the lacquered wood around the desk, and cosy furniture for (presumably) the customer who has to wait. Here it strikes him that he never has had the chance to explain to Genji that he is the more picky brother when it comes to lovers.  Seven or eight of Hanamura’s sexiest might be a little too much. But there is also no backing out, as a softly spoken woman directs him down one of the dimly lit (mood lighting, he supposes) hallways to wherever his room is. Hanzo can’t be mad at her for doing her job - even if he casts her a pleading ‘free me’ look on the way past, which she doesn’t fall for.

He forgets the door number almost instantly, meandering round a corner until the front desk is out of sight and he can relax. Perhaps there is a room empty he can duck into, take a nap, and tell Genji he’s ready to go home. There is company work calling his name. (More pressing is a notification on his phone, informing him that  _ Love In Leather Pants  _ has updated. It demands immediate attention.)

A cracked open door attracts him, and Hanzo slips in through the gap, closing it behind him before settling on the bed. The room is dressed much the same as the reception, intimately lit and full of lavish curves. But Hanzo closes his eyes, composing his phonecall back to Genji. So sorry, brother, but it’s too tiring to go longer. He has quite had his fill now.. He is not as young and full of energy as Genji, a spring bean of twenty two who laid waste to a family-owned onsen for his most recent birthday party. Surely that would be convincing enough.

Rolling over onto his front, Hanzo’s hand stops halfway to his phone, frozen by intrigue - on the ottoman at the foot of the bed is an outfit, devilishly skimpy, topped with ears and a little fluffy tail. Hanzo’s eyes widen a little, his stomach twisting in what he belatedly realises is excitement. If Genji had arranged someone wearing  _ that _ \--

But the thought doesn’t get to finish, as the door opens and a man enters, grumbling to himself. He does not spot Hanzo first, who freezes on the bed, ankles crossed and a definite heat in his face.

The man turns - he’s rugged and greying at the temples, a thick moustache standing out above his fitting clothes, which are particularly tight around his muscular thighs - and halts immediately. “Oh,” he blinks, hat clasped between his fingers, “I’m sorry. Must’ve gone in the wrong room.”

Hanzo’s brain is fast - but the heat between his thighs is faster and before he can stop himself, he’s propped up on one elbow, lips pulled into a shy smile, “not at all! You just caught me before I have gotten changed.”

He is halfway upright and the man backs away to the door, bowing politely, “of-of course, I apologise, I’ll wait outside--”

“No, no, I will be only a moment,” Hanzo is his feet, grabbing the costume and hastening behind the ornate screen covering a corner of the room. “Ah, make yourself at home,” he calls over, kicking off his shoes without thinking, only stopping when he hears the soft  _ thmp  _ of the man seating himself on the bed. He hears him exhale softly, shifting his weight, and Hanzo drags his focus back to the outfit in his hands, fluffy little bunny’s tail waving a little. Here, he can see the low cut of the front, the tightness of the black fabric, the jaunty bend of one ear. He is not so unworldly as to have never heard of a Playboy bunny before - the heat between his thighs builds at the thought of him squeezed into the costume, and his fingers squeeze the fabric tighter in his fists.

Hanzo is in luck; it is a little tight around his hips, but only so much that it shows off their curve, hugging his waist and stretching up to where a little build-in push up bra almost pops his pecs out over the top. He fishes around for panties to wear underneath, but to no avail, the fabric tight and pressing up between his legs as he turns to survey himself in the mirror that leans up against the screen. It rides high over his ass, and Hanzo feels his face heating up as he sticks back his hips a little. Stockings up to his thighs with little garter belts only make him hotter. The collar (with little bow and a decorative, mercilessly silent bell) sits comfortably around his neck - for fleeting moment, he imagines fingers holding onto the back of it and has to bite back the smallest noise. 

Bunny ears and tail in place, he does a full turn in the mirror. He looks (dare he say it)  _ sexy _ .

The thunder of his heart quiets down enough for him to remember the man outside, windswept and hairy and solid - and  _ waiting for him _ . Hanzo envisages the man’s big hands on his hips, moustache brushing the back of his neck, and his head feels light for a moment. This is not his usual thing. This is so far from being his  _ usual thing _ (the courting, the mental math to see if they match, the almost fully-clothed sex under the moonlight streaming in his window) that his knees almost buckle with the thrill. If only Genji could see him now, fluffy cotton tail and all.

He looks over his shoulder in the mirror one last time. He wiggles his butt on impulse, the little tail jiggling behind him. Then he steps out from behind the screen.

The man is still dressed, having only shucked his coat and loosened his tie enough to show off a few dark curls over the top button of his shirt. Some strands from his short ponytail have fallen loose against his cheeks, rough with stubble, and there’s an undeniable spark of lust in his eyes as he spots Hanzo, try as he might to politely disguise it. He toes his boots off, kicking them aside as Hanzo pads over to him, and pats the bed beside him in a way Hanzo can only describe as gentlemanly. His hands are  _ big _ . Genji had a saying about big hands. Or was it feet? Hanzo cannot remember.

“You’re a stunner,” the man breathes, eyes tracing over Hanzo’s form appreciatively. “Didn’t expect I’d be gettin’ such a beauty tonight.” The trace of accent Hanzo had picked up earlier is stronger now, all the grit of the southern United States desert laid smooth by the warm liquor of his voice as he spoke. “May I?” It took Hanzo a moment to catch on, staring dumbly at the hand extended tantalizingly close to his hip. 

“O-Of course,” he blinks away his confusion and smiles, sweeping his hair over one shoulder with a hand. “Of course, you may,” before the man’s hand can settle on his waist, Hanzo perches on his lap, nestling himself in place. He bats his eyelashes a little, extremely aware of his lack of makeup, and thinks fast, “that is what you are paying for, after all.”

The man is a little surprised, but does not protest, instead stroking a finger over Hanzo’s cheek and curling it under his chin. He smiles, a single gold tooth glinting past his lips, “figured it’s always polite to ask, y’know. You’re cute as hell.” This close Hanzo can smell cigar smoke lingering on his skin - underneath is leather and a sweet cologne, thickest under his jawline. He’s a little rough around the edges this close up, scarring poking out his sleeve and shooting through one brow, and Hanzo only finds himself leaning closer into the man’s fingers.

“Do you wanna deal with payment now?,” he’s soft this close, his thumb on Hanzo’s hip stroking over the fabric of his itty bitty outfit, teasingly close to being skin to skin. Hanzo shakes his head in reply - he had forgotten for a moment that this wasn’t his outfit, or where he was supposed to be, money wasn’t on his mind at all. 

“Later,” he tries to make his smile coy, shifting his hips in what he hopes is a cute wiggle. “Let me take care of you first.”

It seems to do the trick. The man chuckles - quiet, deep, something about it makes Hanzo tingle - and squeezes Hanzo’s ass playfully, “well, ain’t you just a blessing. I’ll have to tip if you’re gonna be like this all night.”  _ All night. _ Hanzo tightens his thighs together at the thought, all too aware that the thin strip of fabric between them has already been soaked. “Should probably introduce myself, huh?”

Probably. What was the protocol for this? Chapters five through to eight of  _ Seven Spicy Tales in Spandex _ have only taught Hanzo so much, and he doubts they are much of a reliable source. He nods a little, “what should I call you?”

“Name’s Jesse McCree,” it sounds like a cowboy’s name, and Hanzo is reminded of  _ Love In Leather Pants _ ’s author’s previous work, a short ranch-based erotica named  _ Taming McRae _ (the primary love interest having been the titular McRae, a similarly roguishly handsome man). “You can just call me Jesse, though. And what do I call you, sugar?”

Hanzo’s face flushes at the nickname, causing him to stumble, “I--sugar. I like sugar.”

“That ‘cause you’re so sweet, hm?,” there comes that chuckle again, another squeeze of his ass, and Hanzo hums in agreement, still hot in the face. He could have those hands all over him - he  _ would  _ have them everywhere, actually, he realises as he thinks of what to say next.

“How about we play a little game to start?,” Hanzo swivels himself away, back leaning against Jesse’s broad chest, legs still together. “Let us get to know each other. Find my most sensitive area to win.” Both of Jesse’s hands are on his waist now, before travelling down his thighs, thumbs so close to pushing between them. “And no,” Hanzo adds, pushing a hand back into Jesse’s hair, “it isn’t down _ there _ .”

Jesse’s laugh rumbles in his ear, pressing Jesse’s chest against him more, “oh? I’m up for this sort of challenge. What’s my prize if I win?”

“ _ If  _ you win,” although there was no doubt he would, even if Hanzo had to lay there for hours before Jesse found the right spots. “You may choose a prize.”

“Sounds good to me,” one of Jesse’s hands runs down Hanzo’s left leg, caressing the limb, “and I’m thinking I’ve worked up a bit of an  _ appetite _ ,” his other hand suddenly pushes between Hanzo’s thighs, thumb grazing Hanzo’s clit through the costume. Hanzo gasps a little despite himself, as Jesse’s hand eases his thighs further apart and palms over Hanzo’s crotch, one finger bent in as he rubs in gentle circles. Jesse makes a low appreciative sound, “y’sure this isn’t your most sensitive spot?”

Hanzo nods, not entirely sure himself, “mhm-hm, I am.” He presses himself back, waiting for Jesse to move his hand up, but Jesse seems contented to explore one handed, teasing him through sodden fabric. His breath hitches again when stubble scratches at his neck and Jesse kisses his shoulder - languid kisses up to his neck, pulling at Hanzo’s skin with his lips. The man kisses Hanzo’s earlobe, a little nip pulling at it for a moment, then away to kiss his neck again. It’s awful. It’s amazing. He can’t remember where even  _ is  _ supposed to be his most sensitive part, what with Jesse’s hands all over him.

“Still quiet, huh?,” he can feel the smile of Jesse’s lips, pressed into his neck, and he has to grip the man’s shirt with his other hand. Jesse moves one knee between Hanzo’s legs, and pushes the fabric aside with one finger, “guess I’ll keep going, hm?” Hanzo nods in reply, letting his eyes close and trying not to let Jesse undo him with just one hand, a finger pushing inside him. He won’t be that easy, he swears, even as he bites his lip and lets out the softest moan as Jesse strokes slowly between his labia, one finger swipe from the back to his clit. Jesse kisses his neck again, moustache tickling his skin, likely grinning at the poor bunny on his lap.

“Y’smell wonderful,” he murmurs, “you wearin’ anything?” Hanzo doesn’t remember putting anything special on - he shakes his head a little, pushing down on Jesse’s fingers as Jesse’s other hand traces up his chest. “No? Must be natural, huh. Never ceasing to amaze, sugar,” he could listen to that name forever - or all night, which feels the same thing right now - whispered in his ear like that. It seems to embrace all of him, lingering on his skin as if Jesse has ten more hands caressing him with every soft syllable he utters. A finger circles Hanzo’s clit as Jesse adds quietly, “bet you taste just as good.”

“Jesse,” is all Hanzo manages in reply, hips grinding down on Jesse’s hand in as restrained a manner as possible, the long ears on his headband dangerously close to freeing themselves. He barely notices Jesse peeling down the front of the costume until the air - cold after the meagre warmth the fabric offered - touches his exposed nipples, followed by Jesse’s keen fingers.

“ _ Jesse _ ,” Hanzo whines, back arching him forward into the man’s hand as first one nipple is pinched, then the other, both stiffening within moments. Jesse senses the reaction and chuckles quietly as he kisses Hanzo’s neck, rubbing his clit with one hand and one nipple with the other. Hanzo lifts one leg slightly, desperate to take Jesse’s fingers inside him, straining for every touch to be stronger, _ closer,  _ **_more_ ** .

“Looks like I win,” Jesse breathes into Hanzo’s neck, a triumphant edge to his voice, and he rubs a thumb over Hanzo’s stiff nipple, humming in satisfaction as Hanzo whines louder, shaking on his lap. “Woulda got there sooner, but you squirm so nicely with just a lil attention, felt like taking my time.” Hanzo nods shakily, trying to ride Jesse’s hand - until both pull away, hands settling back on Hanzo’s waist. 

“Wait--,” he starts, exposed pussy grinding instead on Jesse’s thigh, but Jesse cuts him off by moving him onto the bed, pressing a swift kiss to his mouth. He tries to follow Jesse’s lips as they move away, but they are too quick, instead settling on one nipple. Hanzo moans unapologetically now, thighs quivering as Jesse licks his nipple, kissing the tip and taking it in his mouth, then giving the other the same treatment. He strokes Hanzo’s clit again, a whole hand holding Hanzo’s legs apart as he slots himself in between them. 

“Lord, you’re cute,” he rumbles as he stands to survey Hanzo for a moment. “Could do this for hours, sugar,” and Hanzo wants to beg him to, yes, please, keep going, “but I got a better plan.”  

Hanzo’s nipples are free in the cold air again as Jesse gets on his knees beside the bed, still dressed but a few shirt buttons loose now. He kisses his way down Hanzo’s body, over the outfit now only covering Hanzo’s middle and some of his lower chest, and onto one inner thigh, right to the top of one stocking. Hanzo tilts his head up, chest heaving as he regains his breath - silently begging Jesse get back to his chest, with his mouth, his hands,  _ anything _ \- to see Jesse gently lift one thigh onto his shoulder.

“Trust me, sugar, this is real good,” he grins and shuffles in until Hanzo’s leg is comfortably wrapped round his shoulders. “Now don’t hold back on those sounds, honey, keep ‘em up for me,” that was another good nickname, that just had Hanzo more desperate for his touch. “I wanna hear it all,” Jesse almost growls, sliding a hand back up to Hanzo’s chest ( _yes, yes! Touch me_ , Hanzo cries silently, all grace and decorum of the formidable Shimada clan’s eldest son entirely out the window) to play again. Now he ducks his head down between Hanzo’s legs and Hanzo _gasps_.  

Jesse starts slow, tongue moving in long strokes between Hanzo’s labia. It’s different to his fingers, more flexible and joined by his breath - Hanzo can’t remember if he’s been eaten out before, surely he would remember this sort of thing. Jesse pushes his tongue deeper, determined to sweep from one end to the other, across the sides and round Hanzo’s clit without missing a single corner. He kisses between Hanzo’s lips, then pushes his tongue in again, licking in little side to side movements, back and forth and back again. Every now and then, he glances up and his eyes flash in what Hanzo interprets as enjoyment as Hanzo whines softly on top of the bed. Jesse shifts Hanzo’s leg higher, and pushes his tongue further, harder - then forward to wrap around Hanzo’s clit again, then back to push the tip into his hole. He lavishes every inch with attention, thumb pulling one lip aside to let his tongue in further. 

Hanzo lets his head drop back on the bed, bunny ears falling off, a hand already on Jesse. The man’s ponytail is a mess already, and Hanzo makes it only worse by gripping his hair, half pushing Jesse’s face further into his pussy. A few fingers working alongside Jesse’s tongue and he would be done for, a mess on this man’s (hired) bed. He plays with his free nipple with his other hand, rougher as he rubs his thumb over it, less co-ordinated than Jesse.

“Harder,” Hanzo mumbles, eyes half closed as his hips push down on Jesse’s mouth - and Jesse complies, mouth widening to lick him more enthusiastically. Then one finger traces over Hanzo’s thigh and round to his entrance, pushing inside. “ _ More, _ ” he begs, gripping Jesse’s hair tighter and whining when Jesse’s finger isn’t immediately joined with another. Two finally come, then three, working in and out of him in a steady rhythm, Jesse sucking on his clit above it. Hanzo feels the heat building just above his pussy and paws at himself, almost frantic, trying to race towards the finish. Jesse meets him with enthusiasm, fingers curling inside Hanzo, his licking sloppier now. Hanzo feels him hum as he sucks on Hanzo’s clit and push his fingers deeper and presser closer and--

He’s _ there, _ he’s _ ablaze _ , he’s _ electrified  _ for a moment as he comes in Jesse’s mouth with a loud moan, thighs tight around the man’s head for a fleeting second before they relax and turn to jelly. He squeezes around Jesse’s fingers, the resistance enough to push the wave up his spine and through his whole body, toes curling over Jesse’s shoulders. Hanzo arches up off the bed a little as every muscle delightfully tenses, then relaxes, unfurling within him until he is limp on the bed, still a tingle in his inner thighs.

Jesse waits until then to withdraw his hand and straighten his back, a satisfied smile beneath his wet moustache. He shucks his shirt to wipe his face and hands, never taking his eyes off of Hanzo, even as he tosses it and his tie aside. Topless now, he reveals himself as hairy and strong, muscles hiding just beneath a slight paunch that sticks over his belt. He’s scarred on his torso too - the body of a man who has lived.

One hand stroking Hanzo’s thigh, he looks on, “feel good, huh, sugar?” Hanzo can only nod, breathless. “Don’t get to eat out a pretty little thing like you very often, s’quite a treat.” Hanzo feels himself throb a little, in response to Jesse’s voice. He gently pulls the fabric back over Hanzo’s pussy, patting it in what Hanzo could only describe as a fond manner, “you need a lil break, I think, sugar. Young thing like you will be right as rain in a bit, so don’t fret, quick rest first. Mind if I join you?”

“Sure,” Hanzo breathes, his voice coming back to him.

“Thank you kindly, sugar,” and he has pulled himself up on the bed, belt undone in a heartbeat and halfway down his hairy legs. He drops his jeans next to his crumpled shirt before he edges closer to Hanzo, who is still lying like a ragdoll in the wet patch he has made on the sheets. Hanzo turns his head as Jesse pulls Hanzo back against him, slotting Hanzo between his legs. He’s still wearing underwear, sure, but a thin piece of fabric stretched tight over his cock hides nothing as he gets himself comfortable against Hanzo’s ass. It feels warmer than the rest of him - maybe because he’s obviously hard and all of Hanzo’s energy is now focussed on not grinding back against it. 

Jesse wraps an arm round him, one large hand resting low on Hanzo’s abdomen, “comfy there?” Hanzo nods, and feels the tickle of Jesse’s moustache as he presses closer to whisper, “you taste real good, y’know. Wouldn’t mind going for second helpings.” For some, clearly idiotic reason, Hanzo had thought he would be done, but he clamps his legs together at Jesse’s words, a fresh wave of arousal soaking the crotch of his costume. This doesn’t escape the man’s notice and he chuckles quietly, pressing a kiss to Hanzo’s neck, “is that an agreement, sugar?” 

“Maybe,” Hanzo manages to sound coy, wiggling his hips a little - which just grinds him back against Jesse’s sizable dick, firmly pressed  _ into _ him. He pauses a moment, then rolls his hips experimentally, and he hears Jesse practically groan into his neck. Hanzo bites his lip to hide a smile, rocking back against the growing erection in Jesse’s underwear.

“Not gonna give an old man a break, huh?,” it comes out in almost a growl as one of Jesse’s hands grips Hanzo’s waist, sending a thrill down between Hanzo’s thighs. He grinds back with more enthusiasm, reaching a hand back to grip the man’s hair. It’s loose of its ponytail now, brushing his shoulders when Jesse leans in to press a scratchy kiss to Hanzo’s neck, and he grips a handful as Jesse murmurs, “naughty little thing, you are, huh. Lucky you’re so cute, or I’d have to spank you.”

“ _ Try me _ ,” Hanzo breathes, already imagining the firm weight of Jesse’s big hand on his ass - like he has read Hanzo’s mind, a moment later Jesse’s hand complies, giving one cheek a hard slap. Hanzo gasps and falters in his rhythm, unable to ignore his clit throbbing with renewed vigor. Without a moment’s hesitation, Jesse’s thigh is pushing between his legs again and another smack lands on his ass, Jesse giving him a rough squeeze for good measure.

“Yer adorable, sugar,” another sharp slap and Hanzo moans, hips grinding down against Jesse’s thigh. Jesse’s accent is more obvious now, a real southern drawl in his ear - it almost makes him angry, how good it sounds, as Jesse breathes filthy words into his neck in between kisses, “louder for me, darlin’, I wanna have this whole hotel hear ya,  _ tell them how deep you want me. _ ” He would, he  _ absolutely would _ , but he only whines when he opens his mouth, rubbing his pussy furiously on Jesse’s leg. A hand is on his chest, pushing down the top of his costume, and Hanzo _ gasps  _ as Jesse’s fingers find his nipples again, coaxing them out into sensitive little points. There’s a deep chuckle behind him as Jesse rolls one nipple between two fingers, making Hanzo squirm against his leg, against his  _ dick _ , which he’d almost forgotten about entirely, now free of Jesse’s boxers and pushing under the fabric of the costume where it barely covers Hanzo’s ass. 

With a squeeze of Hanzo’s chest, Jesse rolls onto his back, Hanzo still on top of him, “c’mere, sugar.” Hanzo’s legs fall apart without much help and a hand is back between them, thick fingers pushing aside soaking fabric to play with his clit again. He bucks his hips a little, the full feeling of Jesse’s fingers inside him still fresh in his mind, and for a moment it seems like Jesse will comply, pushing one inside him. Another finger follows and he whines for more, as they ease in and out of him.

“Y’want more?” He nods, pulling his thighs further apart. “Y’want my cock in you, sugar?” He nods more. Jesse’s fingers pull away and he snaps his thighs together desperately to keep them, but Jesse is too quick, rubbing one nipple fondly before his hands are gone. “Turn over, I wanna see you face, darlin’,” there’s a quiet crinkling sound as Hanzo complies, legs shaky as he manages to straddle Jesse’s thighs, in time to see the man applying a condom. He winks, “gotta keep you safe, sugar. C’mere.”

His cock is bigger in the flesh than Hanzo had guessed - not so much in length, but _ girth, _ much like Jesse’s large, strong hands. (The head is straining to escape, it seems, and Hanzo wishes he had a chance to see if it fitted in his mouth.) Jesse has leaned himself back on the pillows, propped up enough to settle his hands comfortably on Hanzo’s waist, easing him forward and down. One hand slides between Hanzo’s thighs to line Jesse’s cock up between Hanzo’s lips - he looks up at Hanzo, mouth opening to ask  _ is he ready? _ , but apparently the fire in Hanzo’s eyes is enough to convince him - then gently, gently he eases the head in.

It stretches him almost immediately, more solid than two fingers and not as flexible, and Hanzo exhales hard as it pushes into him. Jesse looks up quickly, scanning his face with concern.

“That alright, sugar?,” he pauses his movements, the hand still on Hanzo’s hip stroking over the skin comfortingly. “Let me know if it hurts, we can stop.” It such a gentler tone than earlier, and if it was any other moment, Hanzo would want to be cuddled up in Jesse’s arms, hearing that voice whisper in his ear. 

But in this moment, what he wants - to put it plainly - is dick. “Just adjusting to it,” Hanzo takes the hand from his waist and looks Jesse in the eye, kissing the tips of his fingers. He can taste himself on them, and without thinking, sucks two of them into his mouth. Jesse laughs.

“Yer a real sweet thing,” he relaxes a little, “just don’t force yourself now.” Hanzo kisses his hand once more, then lets it go, his whole body sinking down slowly over Jesse’s cock. He closes his eyes to take the feeling in - there has been nothing quite like it before, if he is honest. Jesse’s fingers don’t come close, nor has any toy filled him quite the same way. There is still the small burn of putting something new and large in a hole that’s been reasonably tight until tonight, but Hanzo can ignore it, his thighs and Jesse’s cock slick with his own juices. (Maybe this has been where he has gone wrong before. Boys his own age are too preoccupied with length, but what he’s always been after is  _ girth _ , is  _ weight _ , is the soft groan from the middle aged man beneath him as he stretches Hanzo’s pussy.) 

Jesse whistles quietly, eyes running up and down Hanzo’s body, “wish I had a camera, darlin’, you’re gorgeous up there.” He squeezes Hanzo’s ass, then slides a hand forward to rub gently at Hanzo’s swollen clit, “nice and slow now, I wanna see those thighs work.” Hanzo obeys, drawing himself up first before sinking back down, the head of Jesse’s cock remaining firmly held inside him. He rolls his hips a little with every push downwards, encouraged by Jesse’s supporting hand on his hip and husky voice, “there we go, nice and slow there, sugar, you’re nearly ridin’ like a pro already. How long you been doing this? What’ve I gotta pay to take you home, huh?” 

But Hanzo doesn’t reply, lost in the feeling of being stretched more and more as he sinks further onto Jesse’s cock each time. He has to lean his hands on Jesse’s hairy stomach to steady himself as his thighs begin to burn, little moans escaping him. He’s determined to take all of Jesse, he really is, even if he has to work all night for it - then Jesse pulls him forward, flush to his chest. 

“Sugar, you’re priceless,” Jesse breathes, and kisses him - and Hanzo kisses back in a heartbeat, almost desperately seeking the man’s tongue in his mouth, his hand in Hanzo’s long black hair tugging it just a little as his hips move beneath them. He thrusts up in Hanzo, and Hanzo can’t help but whine into his mouth, thighs clamped either side of Jesse’s hips. It’s too much all too quickly and Hanzo pulls his mouth away, pushing his face into Jesse’s neck as Jesse’s hips rock up to meet him - he’s a mess already, holding on as Jesse fills him, again and again.

Then Jesse holds him close and rolls them over, Hanzo on his back now and Jesse leaning over him, tangled strands of his hair falling into Hanzo’s eyes as he dips down to kiss him again. His moustache brushes Hanzo’s cheek and down his neck, following a line of kisses over his skin as he thrusts into Hanzo harder - Hanzo moans louder, head pressed back in the pillow and a leg hitched up over Jesse’s hip, grabbing at his sides and his back and his arms,  _ anything to be closer _ ,  _ be around more of him, _ he wants to beg Jesse not to stop but Jesse needs no encouragement. Hanzo arches his back a little as Jesse kisses his throat and he feels a flash of teeth pressed against his collarbone, Jesse’s cock pushed all the way inside him, hears Jesse breathing something about how lovely he is in his ear. He doesn’t listen, just claws at the man’s broad back and grabs his hair - surely he is loud enough for at least the next room to hear, but he is past caring as he contracts around Jesse, squeezing at him with his pussy and his thighs, begging him to keep him filled.

And it’s Jesse who climaxes first, Jesse who pushes himself deep inside Hanzo with a low moan, lips pressed to Hanzo’s neck as his cock jerks inside him. Even panting in Hanzo’s ear, he is still a gentleman, pushing a hand between them to play with Hanzo’s clit and thrust a little even as he is softening inside him - it’s enough to push Hanzo over the edge anyway, still sensitive from earlier. He feels himself contract again, hard, Jesse still deep in him as he orgasms. Hanzo shakes beneath him, thighs too weak to hold his legs up, and collapses back on the bed, sinking into the covers. 

Jesse pulls out slowly, careful to turn away and dispose of the condom before he comes back to kiss Hanzo softly, “don’t I feel lucky now, huh.” His moustache scratches gently at Hanzo’s cheek as he smiles, “you’re something special, sugar, you should know that. Real lovely.” Those strong arms wrap a limp Hanzo up and he gratefully snuggles into them, letting himself be pulled close. Jesse is warm, slightly sweaty from exertion and wonderfully hairy without his clothes hiding him. He surrounds Hanzo, pulling the blankets about them, “whew. You’ve worn me out.”

“You have done the same to me,” Hanzo retorts softly, as Jesse covers him back up with his skimpy outfit. He can feel an ache creeping into his body, but it’s a pleasurable one. “I haven’t, ah, enjoyed myself quite so much in a while.”

Jesse raises a brow, “really? That’s just a travesty, darlin’, maybe I’ll hang around a little to see to it that you’re treated better from now on.” Hanzo smiles, biting his lip. 

“ **_Hey!_ ** ” He might have had something to add, but the door - which, Hanzo belatedly realises, neither of them had bothered to lock - bangs open, revealing a tall blue-haired woman in lacy lingerie. Her eyes go between them with a mixture of confusion and fury, “I have this room booked for a customer, Mr. Mc--”

Hanzo has never shot out of bed faster. Before either Jesse or the employee at the door can say anything, he grabs his things, bundling them up in his arms. The haze of Jesse’s cologne and the handprint on his ass falls away in a moment, and he elbows his way past the poor woman at the door, out into the hall - suddenly remembering he’s supposed to be the eldest son of a prominent crime family, with dignity and elegance and not lying in bed with strange men all day (much as he might want to). Hanzo pulls his coat on as he passes through the reception (featuring a different receptionist, who does not look up) and bustles down the stairs onto the street. He only breathes again on the inside of a chauffeured car home, the sticky black one-piece hidden beneath his jacket.

Hanzo leans his head on the window, breath misting up the glass as it starts to rain outside. He watches the city lights fade into forest as they approach home, a small smile on his face. Only now does he think back and realise, he never did give Jesse his name.

\--

He does not expect to see Jesse McCree again. The next morning he is stiff, warranting a long soak in a bath and headphones to avoid Genji’s pestering over whether or not his night went well. Hanzo lets the maids take the black outfit to be cleaned, trusting that they won’t tattle on it to his father, and keeps only the tail, which had been forgotten for most of his time with Jesse and is not quite flat. He watches the hickey on his neck fade over the following few days, running a finger over the purple mark where Jesse’s teeth had sunk into him. He has yet to read the new chapter of  _ Love in Leather Pants _ .

“You have to tell me how it went, brother,” Genji demands, as they change together into formal wear. “I set it up, after all. I deserve to know, do I not. Help me with my hakama.”

“I am a private person, Genji,” Hanzo obliges him with the garment, breezing over the topic of conversation, “you know that well.” A part of him wants to share, to boast to Genji a little - but a larger part wants to keep it all to himself, keeping the memory pure. Thinking of Jesse, anywhere outside of late at night when he is alone in bed and can pretend his hand is Jesse’s between his legs, fills him with a sinking feeling. Hanamura isn’t big, but Jesse was hardly a local. To find him again would be near impossible.

At least this seems to shut Genji up temporarily, at least long enough for them to make it down a corridor and into the hall where their father has been hosting guests all morning. Genji grumbles at Hanzo’s elbow, tugging at his kimono until he almost walks into his brother, eyes straight ahead.

“Look at the man father is talking to,” he hisses in Hanzo’s ear - but Hanzo has already seen. Taller than their father and almost twice as broad, hair pulled back into a small ponytail, moustache neatly combed, is Jesse McCree. His clothes are certainly fancier than the other day, but there is something about the scuff on his hat and the twinkle in his eye that shows he has just groomed himself up for the occasion. He laughs at a joke their father has made, and Genji makes a small noise of appreciation, “he’s hot.” 

Without looking away from Jesse - who has yet to notice him - Hanzo quietly grabs the sleeve of Genji’s kimono tight and whispers, “he’s  **_mine._ ** ”

**Author's Note:**

> notes: i havent written smut in......a While. wheezes. but the commissioner is happy with it, so that's enough for me!  
> hanzo has terrible tastes in online gay erotica, and sadly none of them are real. :'(


End file.
